Cascading Pearls
by Yumi Akimoto
Summary: I’m going to kiss Hermione Granger. I’m not joking. Tonight, and there’s no need for a mistletoe. [One shot, RHr, 2nd of the Winter Memoirs series]


**Disclaimer: **Still don't own Harry Potter or any characters, or I'd be pairing Draco and Hermione right now xD

**A/N: **I'm very disappointed with the response to my first _Winter Memoirs_ fic - so much expectations and yet only lukewarm reviews. Well, life has its twist and turns, and we still gotta pick ourselves up and learn from our mistakes. So, I hope this does better than the former, and it'll be the highlight of my day if you leave a review!

_Winter Memoirs_ is a trilogy of separate one-shots, written as Christmas gifts for **Harry** x **Ginny**, **Ron **x **Hermione**, and **Draco** x **Hermione** shippers. Three different stories, told by three different people of their memories during a fateful winter after their sixth year. _Cascading Pearls_ is the second.

**Summary: **I'm going to kiss Hermione Granger. I'm not joking. Tonight, and there's no need for a mistletoe.

**Pairing: **Ron **x** Hermione

**Point of View: **Ron

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**Cascading Pearls**

- _25th December 1997_ -

I, Ronald Weasley, am a sad, sad person.

For one, I'm not a romantic sort of person at all. Nope, not one bit. I admit I've done some, er, very embarrassing actions when it comes to communicating with a girl. One word about Lavender and I swear I'll go mental. I've learned a crucial lesson: never, _ever_, try to compromise by invoking jealousy. Seriously, try snogging a random girl and have the love of your life catch you doing so: that's probably the dumbest thing you ever do in your life.

Yeah, that's me, being stupid, turning bad situations into total chaos.

If Harry tells someone else how impudent I am, I'll actually agree. I jump to conclusions a lot, and I always think the worst. _Always_. I've been called a 'foolish, self-centred git' so many times I can't count them with my fingers. Say, an estimated hundred times from Ginny, another hundred from Hermione and one from Mum. Well, that's when she found out about Lavender, anyways.

Another example of my stupidity is, of course, taking Harry's dare.

I know, I know. Dares normally don't turn out good. I've had too many bad memories with Fred and George during my childhood to last me a while, so I'm good, thanks. Call me insane or in need to join Lockhart at St Mungo's, but this time I don't think I've any objections.

I'm going to give Hermione Granger a kiss.

Tonight. Without a mistletoe.

I don't think it's a very frightening thought, but Harry seems to find this very amusing. I suspect it's originally Ginny's idea (god knows how they got so close than ever; what happened to Harry's infamous "I don't want to involve her"?!), which is rather frustrating since she practically _knows_ my exact thoughts. It kills to have a sister who may be an underling of Fred and George.

"It's Christmas, mate, lighten up. Do someone exciting," Harry told me yesterday, with a lopsided grin when I'd agreed to the dare.

Yep, very exciting indeed. My insides are churning with nervousness now.

Because true to my word, I'm sitting in the living room – don't ask me how fourteen people can fit into it – after dinner, fidgeting on the carpeted floor beside the fireplace. I don't know how many times I've sneaked glances at Hermione across the room, who, thanks goodness, doesn't notice my nervousness. Because she's busy trying to explain something Muggle-ish to Dad.

"… hair dye has the same results as Tonks's hair, just that their method is very wearying and the effect isn't permanent," she informs, as Dad listens intently.

"How fascinating! Guess I should try one then, how about it Molly?" Dad announces gleefully, but shuts his mouth at Mum's death glare.

As I absent-mindedly drink the contents of my Butterbeer bottle, Harry comes over and sits down beside me, giving me a superior grin. "Hope you're not backing out," Harry mocks quietly.

"No bloody way," I retort furiously. I'm already agitated enough trying to relax and remember my original plan. However, despite my resolve, my voice comes out as an unconfident croak. I'm definitely losing my nerves.

George edges closer to us and pats my back vigorously, causing me to wince in pain. At least, I've long swallowed the Butterbeer in my throat. "Fifteen Galleons to me if you to chicken out," he says wickedly.

"But I don't have fifteen Galleons!" I complain, shaking my balled fist at him. Just because they're practically making a fortune from their joke shop, doesn't mean I share their delight in frivolous money-spending.

"Another five if you wet your pants," George challenges me, leaning over and exchanging winks with his twin.

I fume, but I feel my cheeks and ears getting warmer by the minute. Harry, Fred and George's teasing is really not helping me at all. They've been doing it since afternoon, when Harry practically announced to the whole household about the events. Charlie gave me some advices which I don't give a damn, and Mum held me back after lunch for ten minutes, giving me tips about how to approach a girl without insulting her. I'm surprised I haven't clawed my way up a wall yet; it's not easy to make a confession to a girl, no matter how insufferable and likeable she is.

But then again, I really don't regret taking the dare. If there's one day where I've to forget all my self-consciousness and just go for it, today's the day.

"We're all behind you, Ron," Ginny tells me encouragingly, giving me a supportive smile. Fred and George snort and start making crude jokes, which earn them each a painful slap on the arm from Ginny.

I ignore the group and take a deep breath. My heart is beating very hard against my chest, and a nauseous feeling leaves me sick and about to throw up the turkey from dinner. Pulling up what's left of my confidence, I scan the room for Hermione, and just in time I catch her heading to the kitchen.

Well, this is it.

I dump the empty bottle on the coffee table and got onto my feet. My brain isn't registering the excited cheers coming from the four exuberant people from behind me (I don't plan to follow their sentences, anyway); I just keep walking towards the kitchen, hoping that wizarding gods will have mercy on me.

Hermione is at the sink, bewitching the dirty dishes to wash themselves, and piling the clean ones into the cupboard. She doesn't notice my presence until I cough loudly, and she recoils around.

"Oh, hi Ron," she greets me and smiles.

I subconsciously wave my hand at her. She leaves the dishes to their cleaning and leans against the counter, staring at me with that unreadable expression. She looks dreamy and jovial, but that must be from the Christmas spirit, of course.

"Well, want to go for a walk?" she asks gently, lazily waving her wand at the tablecloth to wipe the dishes. She sounds hopeful, and with no terms I'm accepting the offer, despite the suddenness of it. Why _walk_ when it's snowing outside?

I manage a small smile and nod. "Sure."

We get our cloaks and walk out of the kitchen door into the silver-schemed garden. The small pond nearby is frozen and the bushes and trees are covered with snow. Countless snowmen, which all of us built this morning, are bouncing around at the corner, constantly having to put back their twig-arms that keep dropping. I roll my eyes at their idiocy, imagining those snowmen making friends with the garden gnomes.

Hermione simply walks over to the garden bench and sits on it. She motions me to the empty space beside her, and so I walk over and take s seat. We sit in silence for a minute, as Hermione is looking afar with a contented smile and I'm inwardly panicking at the very thought of her. I can't help but steal glances at her; her cheeks are turning pink, and snow is piling up on her bushy hair. I feel tempted to brush them off, but I hesitate. She looks so beautiful that way.

"Lovely dinner Mum cooked," I suddenly blurt out, speaking in a tone most suitable for discussing the weather. I just feel like whacking myself for my silliness.

The smile on Hermione's lips doesn't leave, as she replies casually, "Yeah, it's delicious."

"Right," I mutter under my breath, running out of topics to converse with. It's getting too awkward, I might even chew my fingernails in extreme anxiety.

"I'm wondering, why haven't I received any presents from you?" she questions me in a firm voice, staring at me curiously with sharp eyes.

Guilt emerges insides as I suddenly remember something that's been bugging my head all day – I forgot to give Hermione her Christmas gift. Stupid, stupid Ronald. I look at her shiftily.

"Actually, I want to give it to you personally," I stutter back, nervously biting my lip in my mouth. I reach my hand into my cloak and fish out a gift-wrapped package and timidly hand it over to her, who – to my surprise – isn't furious or anything. In fact, she looks quite excited.

I can't resist a secret smile as I watch her grab the package from me slowly, and tear open the paper. She studies the vast, black box and shakes it a little to her ear, hoping she can guess the contents. After a few failed tries, she opens it and gasps at the gleaming silver bracelet in it.

"_Ron_!" she breathes, marvelling at the pale white wreath of opal stones twinkling at us. "How… where did you get it?"

For a second a thought strikes me that Hermione has the impression I _stole_ it. I mean, from our family income, people know that we can't afford something like that. "I've, er, been collecting come money for some years now," I explain numbly, my heart beating rapidly.

In truth, the money is supplied by Fred and George, who, sarcastically, believes I'm in more urgent need. Damn, I should've kept those lovely Galleons to myself.

She fingers the bracelet adoringly, asking no more questions from me. As if automatically, I take the jewel from its bed and push it onto Hermione's wrist, much to her glee. She gazes at me as her lips break into a wide smile, making her face look so beautiful with her pink cheeks. That's no thanks to the Muggle dress she's wearing under her cloak; she should know she has a natural beauty.

But I'm more focused on my hand clasped over her. For some reason, I don't retract my hand as usually I do. I will, but for some reason I don't want the warmth to leave.

"You're cold," she remarks, looking at my hand to my face. And before I can read her expression, she brings my hand up to her face and blows onto my skin gently.

I shiver at the feel of her hot breath. Weird goosebumps are giving me chills on the spot she blew at; I notice she isn't locking eyes with me, but still holds my hands to her.

Then I do the unbelievable.

I lean down and kiss her.

It's nothing sensual or passionate, I only manage a slow, soft kiss before I move away. Hermione looks bewildered, speechless maybe, and I immediately blush furiously.

"Sorry, I didn't meant to -" I start blabbering in embarrassment, but Hermione cuts in.

"No, no, it's alright," she consoles me, though she looks nervous too.

Now or never.

I wrap an arm around her shoulders and she looks up at me in bafflement. I don't take another second to let her speak, because I reach down and kiss her again. I pull her closer and press her lips to mine, and my heart leaps when she returns it, latching her hand on the back of my head and sinking into a deep, slow kiss.

Finally, I'm a man, confident enough to kiss Hermione Granger. It's not my virgin kiss, but hey, it feels just like one. Screw Lavender.

"Merry Christmas, Ron," Hermione whispers when we break apart.

For the first time today, I grin broadly at her and brush off the snow in her hair absent-mindedly. I cup her cheek with my hand and murmur back, "Merry Christmas."

Tonight, I gave Hermione Granger a kiss.

Yep, no mistletoe. It's an accomplishment, which I might take pride in, aside from the twenty Galleons I earn for it. I've never felt so happy, so content, sitting here with Hermione in my arms, absolutely oblivious to the snow falling onto us. To me, they're all pearly jewels raining on us.

If I ever wished to Santa Claus for her love as a Christmas gift, he'll be very happy to know that I've received it.

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**A/N: **Review? I'd love one!

**In response to some anonymous review: **I don't know if I truly portrayed Ron as how it is, but yes I believe he's an idiot for going with Lavender. Because, this story is told in RON'S point of view, not any reader's, so surely he realises it's a mistake to date Lavender when the person he loves is right behind him, not any crazy, fanatic HP fans yelling him instructions from the background. And, as much as Draco/Hermione '_invokes_' vomit, I support that ship, and same goes with other canon pairings, so please respect other ships, despite how far-fetched it is. Hope that clears everything up, now all I gotta do is toast these marshmallows on your weak flame xD

Next of the Winter Memoirs: **_Unsung Melody_** – (**Draco/Hermione** fic) Hermione spent six year hating him, but it only takes three days to change that. All it takes, is a Christmas present and a little thing called compassion.


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